Today is my sister's birthday. She'll be...(doing math)...34 years old young this afternoon. You will all stop by her site and wish her a happy birthday! (Yes, whether you are inclined to do so or not. This is because it's a nice thing to do. You all want to be NICE, right?..I thought so.)

Quick birthday trivia: When Heather and I were kids, for some reason, we were made to wait until the hour of our birth to celebrate and to open our birthday presents. An odd custom, to be sure, especially since I was born at 4:45 am and she was born...oh, around 4 in the afternoon. Whereas I could no more than roll out of bed and have my birthday, Foot had to wait all of those agonizing "awake hours" until it was officially time for presents and cake and crap...Heh...

Labels: holidays, lame stories, me roots

Whether it be based upon concerns regarding weather, or real estate availability, or grounds maintenance costs or what have you, it seems that there are a lot of "indoor" facilities cropping up lately. of course, this whole "indoor" thing is far from a recent concept. Going all the way back to the Colosseum in Rome which, it is speculated, had a wooden roof that could be removed if the weather was nice and affixed if the weather were to be poor, it's obvious that mankind craves a place where sport and contest can be showcased year-round like a cat naturally craves beef. Since the 1960s, "domed" stadiums have continued to spring up around the united states in some of the likeliest , and unlikeliest places. Heck, a large number of sports teams, if not ALL professional sports teams which play "outside" types of sports have an indoor facility where they can practice their craft if Mofo Nature becomes unruly. In addition, most major "outdoor" sports have their (bastard child) "indoor" equivalent, such as Major Indoor Lacrosse and Arena Football...What am I getting at, you ask? Well, simply put kids, I think that someone has finally taken the concept of "indoor sport" a wee bit too far...

Yesterday evening, for the first time, I played "indoor softball."

It's no secret that I live in Colorado and, unlike SOME parts of the country, we have very definite "seasons." Unfortunately, despite the fact that it's 60 and sunny today, winter here CAN be quite cold. As such, there aren't a lot of opportunities to play softball this time of year. Of course, there are those that will try , but over the long haul, it's just not feasible. I look at it this way: when the grass turns brown, it's just nature's way of telling you to hang the cleats up and...Oh, I dunno, play hockey. Or something. Anyway, a friend of mine with whom I play softball (during the months where that sort of thing is acceptable) got hooked up with a team in an indoor softball league. I didn't play with this team for their first go 'round but, when told about it, I was interested in the concept. When a new league started this time around, due to my now having Sundays free, I agreed to join the team...

I knew that those indoor soccer shoes would come in handy eventually...

This "league" is played at an establishment called "Play at the Bullpen," which is a really nice baseball and softball training facility. part of this facility includes a smallish area, roughly shaped like a baseball field, replete with "bases and stuff." I would assume that, when it was constructed, fielding practice was what was in mind for it's purpose. This area, though, is where these indoor softball league games take place. Don't get me wrong, I love to get out and play some ball, but I have to say that this area, in all it's smallish, indoor glory, doesn't make me think "great place to play a real game." The obvious reasoning for that is, well, there's a CEILING. And walls. And netting. And artificial turf. And everything is so close together that you have to use a "special" ball. Not only is this game like softball ONLY in the most basic sense but, if you haven't played before, there is really NOTHING that can prepare you for the speed and strangeness of the "gameplay." Everything about indoor softball is really very "wrong" as compared to traditional (outdoor) softball. Also, yeah, things happen pretty darn fast...

Certain modifications have been made to accommodate the smallish size of the play area such as the aforementioned "special" ball. I really don't mean special as in "unique," I mean it more like in "rides the short bus." This ball is significantly lighter than a normal ball and it's laces are roughly twice the size. It's not only hard to handle and challenging to throw, but it makes odd hops and turns on the artificial turf. The pitcher is afforded an "L screen" to stand behind, presumably so they don't get walloped by a batted ball. In theory, this is good. As it turned out, though, it doesn't always work as designed...The pitcher we faced last night had a habit of standing in the opening of the screen after he pitched and I, on my 3rd or 4th at bat, sent a (solid) line drive right back into his chest which ricocheted all the way up to the ceiling. I actually made it on base right around the time that the pitcher started to "de-fib" and, since you're wondering (and you know you are), the "smacky" sound of the impact reverberated around inside the facility for a while. I was quite proud of this, especially since my other "at-bats" to that point had been an exercise in utter futility. A lesson in "what not to do," if you will...

Oh, c'mon. I'm kidding! The pitcher was FINE...I think...Anyway...

I blame this "futility" on the stuff I mentioned earlier...The "walls" and also the "ceiling," things you don't normally have to contend with when playing REAL softball...

In addition to giving the pitcher a sound drubbing though, in an earlier at-bat, I was fortunate enough to embed a ball into the ceiling. This occured because I went after a ball that was PROBABLY a bit low, but I wasn't about to NOT swing at it. "Why," you may ask? Well...Because...You only get ONE strike per at-bat in this game. ONE...stinkin'...strike. If you happen to watch a pitch go over the plate, and it's ruled a strike, you get to walk back to the hole in the wall "dugout" feeling "shame." If you swing and don't make contact, you're (shamefully) out as well. Even if you HIT the (special ed) ball, though, you're probably going to be out, especially if you're a slow, chubby white boy like myself. Players can catch the ball off of the ceiling and off of the walls and, since everything in this facility is just too close together, if you hit a grounder, you'll probably be thrown out at first...No matter where you hit it The only thing you can really do is try and line the ball into a gap (if you can find one) and run like the cops are chasin' you JUST TO GET A SINGLE. Oh yeah, by the way, if you DO happen to get on base, you're probably going to be thrown out at second if the player batting behind you hits the ball. It's just plain screwy...Despite all this screwiness, however, I'm going to stick with it and have fun. The whole thing should not only FORCE me to lose weight, with all of it's "running," but it should make me a better hitter come Springtime. After all, it could be worse...

It could be indoor soccer...

Labels: indignities, lame stories, sports

In the immortal words of El Sid, "Enigmatic posts generate the most comments." It would seem that she was correct, as my pathetic post from two days ago, featuring a poorly drawn spirit, generated nearly 20 comments (including my replies, but hey, you gotta have that "interaction" stuff). It seems that, if I were to post a whole lot of "nothing" followed by a wee "drawing," folks would come and comment (in "droves," no less).

Or maybe not. That would get old...Anyway...

So, yesterday here at work, we were about as "busy" as we've ever been. I would even go so far as to say that we were "Gazette busy" and, for those of you who know what that means, I'm being serious. Yesterday's "busy" was bound to happen, though, because I basically cursed myself the night prior...

Collin has been off all week. As such, we're one artist short and that one (Collin) does turn out a good chunk of work. Up until yesterday, though, the workload in his absence had been "manageable." On Wednesday night, I saw Collin over at my sister's place where we were gathered for a "birthday party" of sorts for Collin's youngest kid. Collin asked how work had been going this week and I replied that it'd been ok, we hadn't been terribly busy...Nothing too "unmanageable."

I should've kept my stupid mouth shut...

Yesterday, we were literally inundated with projects that, not only needed to be done, they needed to be completed IMMEDIATELY. Everyone was scrambling to keep up and finish everything by it's deadline. Most of the projects were completed on time and all ended up being finished close enough to deadline that things didn't explode in a giant, gooey ball of sadness and/or despair. I think that it might be the first time in my 5+ years of working here that I had to shift into "Gazette gear," which was the "gear" that burned me out at the Gazette in the first place. Luckily, days like that are few and far between here. Case in point: today, I'm blogging...About work...heh.

As such, I should get back to doing that stuff called "work," Lest I end up like these poor bastards...Have a good weekend, kids!

Labels: collin crap, indignities, lame stories

I have nothing. No, no, I have LESS than nothing. My brain is as uncooperative as it's ever been. I even tried to put together a quick Monkeyesque entry just now so I could at least fill space and couldn't even do that...

I'm...um...Here's a SPOOKY GHOST! (oooweeooo)

Labels: random drawings, stagnation

Ich bin heute recht leer. Nichts zu teilen. Nichts reales aufregendes weitergehen.

OH-, Wartezeit! Ich erhielt mehr karaokescheiben in der Post! So, daß das ist.

Um. Dank für vorbei stoppen.

Labels: poor usage of foreign language, stagnation

in honor of MLK Day, I am re-posting a post which I posted in August. As you'll see, the post has "stuff" in it related with MLK day. Happy MLK day, kids...

_____


If you were to classify me based solely upon my age, you would have no choice other than to include me as a member of that "elite caste" that is commonly called "generation x." This little tidbit of information isn't something that I'll readily offer up, mostly because I simply DON'T FIT the popularly perpetuated persona (say THAT three times fast...) that "Xers" are thought (by the media and other misinformed assholes) to exude. Regardless, being that I AM an "Xer," if only by timing, I am afforded the unique opportunity to be acutely aware of the circumstances surrounding the creation of the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. The first year that we, as a nation (sans Arizona), officially celebrated said holiday was the same year that I was in 6th grade at Widefield Elementary School.

As a "school kid," myself, and the other little "Xer" bastards, had historical facts drilled into our collective brains on a fairly regular basis, especially when such facts could be tied into an upcoming holiday. The prevailing wisdom there was that, if us kids were gonna have a day off from learnin', well then by God WE'D KNOW WHY! (Go ahead, go outside and NOT LEARN, but you'd better THINK about why you get to play...) I'm sure this isn't too much different from any generation who came before or after us, you're all probably well aware of the procedure...Leading up to Columbus Day, we learned about the Niña, the Pinta and the Santa Frickin' Maria (I hear that, if the Pinta were to be rear-ended by the Niña, it would've exploded). Leading up to President's day, we learned about Big George and Honest Abe (The Chrry tree thing: fiction. Emancipation Proclamation: fact). Leading up to Christmas, we would learn that our Lord and Saviour JESUS CHRIST died on the cross for OUR SINS, so when you're opening up those packages full of socks and underwear on Christmas day, YOU'D BETTER APPRECIATE IT, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE ASSHOLES!..

Ok, I'm kidding. I went to a public school so we weren't allowed to learn about such inflammatory subjects (like "Christopher Columbus")...Anyhoo...

As you'd suspect, leading up to the inaugural Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior holiday, all us kids got some heavy book learnin' in about segregation, civil rights and many other facts (also: minutia) in regards to the life of Dr. King. In addition, in honor of the FIRST EVER official celebration of Dr. King's life and work, our school was to plan an assembly presentation, with us 6th graders doin' the bulk of the "presentin'." Now, if you've never experienced an all-school assembly first hand, here's some quick background for ya...All of the children who attended the school, along with all of the faculty and staff, would gather in the gymnasium/cafeteria and watch the "chosen ones" (in this case, us) put on whatever little show they (we) were supposed to...well..."put on." After that, there would usually be a "second performance" in the evening for all of the parents. This particular production was no exception. We all rehearsed songs and skits that, presumably, were designed to help us sixth-grade crackers give all of the younger crackers some insight into the life, death and accomplishments of Dr. King. The highlight of our little "show" was the "closing" which, it was decided upon, should be a live reading of Dr. King's (wildly popular) "I Have A Dream" speech.

Now, I've said in the past that I'm really very "white," and I am. In fact, I bypass "milk bottle" and head straight for "total cracker," I'll readily admit that. This does not mean, however, that my schooling was void of diversity. On the contrary, I had a very "diverse" group of classmates, racially AND socio-economically. The community where I grew up is not far from a number of military bases and, as such, many different kids sporting many different backgrounds came and went. There were numerous children of every imaginable ethnic heritage at Widefield Elementary while I was in attendance. Getting down to brass tacks here, there were children at the school, in the same grade, of African-American descent available for such a speech. Why am I telling you all of this? Well, it's simple, really...

In what can only be described as a "stroke of (ignorant) brilliance," on what was supposed to be one of the most racially unifying days in American History, the staff members involved in putting the MLK Day assembly together tapped ME to read the famous speech...

I am not kidding...

Obviously, I was flattered to have been chosen for such a responsibilty-laden assignment, but I couldn't help but be confused..."Why not John Parmalee or Edward? Why me?" I inquired. I was then told that, after much thought and consideration, I was chosen because I had the ability to (and I quote) "do all of those funny voices."

No shit..."Funny voices."

Let's put this into perspective, shall we? One of the most brilliant orators of the 20th century delivers an empassioned speech dealing with deep issues such as civil rights, equality and hope during a very tumultuous time in our history at great personal and professional risk to himself and I'm supposed to re-enact it on the FIRST EVER day officially set aside by our country to recognize his accomplishments because I can do "funny voices?" Apparently, I'm supposed to approach the "I Have A Dream" speech as if I'm doing an impression of Groucho Marx, how frickin' wrong is THAT? Regardless of the circumstances, the assignment was mine, so I took on the task of learning Dr. King's famous speech as best I could. During the assembly, I was to break into the speech directly following a song, performed by other members of my class. I was told by the music teacher that, if I missed my cue, there was potential to be drowned out by applause, so I HAD TO BE ALERT!...I COULD NOT MISS MY CUE!..

"Hell yeah," I thought, "I DAMN WELL better be alert"...It's not bad enough that some chubby little blond afro-headed kid was set to mimic the greatest civil rights leader in history, but what if, all of a sudden, people could be led to believe that I was merely hanging out at the front of the gym muttering to myself and disrupting the celebration?..The potential for disaster, I estimated, was very, very real. I rehearsed my part until I was sure that I had it down and then, just 'cause I was mortified, I rehearsed some more. I was going to be READY, dammit, regardless of how odd the whole thing seemed. Soon enough, the day of the assembly arrived. At the appointed hour, all of us whiteys took our respective places at the front of the cafeteria and set to the task of celebrating the life of Dr. King via skits and songs. While all of this was going on, there I stood at the front of the gym, paper in hand, ready to orate to the masses. I was dressed in my best slacks, a green polo shirt and my black "Members Only®" knockoff jacket, my hair having been recently and neatly "picked" into a wonderfully round yellowish cloud. Just as the song, the end of which was to be my cue, "ended" and before our audience could "applaud," I spoke, using the most authoritative tone that my 11 year old throat could muster...

"I HAVE A DREAM TODAY..."

As I delivered my adolescent version of one of the greatest speeches of all time, I was pleasantly surprised to find that all of my preparation had not been in vain. The words flowed from my mouth with passion and inflection, in fact, I barely had to look at the words on the paper which I had been clenching so nervously in my hand the whole time. As I finished the speech, I felt very calm and very relieved. The other students clapped and cheered and it seemed that the whole assembly had been quite the success, as elementary school assemblies go...I now realize what an honor it was to have been chosen to read the speech, even if it was an obviously screwy thing to begin with. I had a job to do and I did it. As long as I live, I'll never forget that I had the privilege of being "King for a day."

Labels: all those funny voices, holidays, indignities, lame stories, me roots, tales of triumph

It seems that you can't swing a dead cat in blogland this week without hitting this "three-fer" quiz thing. Somewhere along the line, my seester got ahold of it and requested...Nay, DEMANDED that I be one of the next to take it. As such, and since I admittedly have nothing else to post, here it is (in all it's quizzical threesomeesque "glory.")

3 names you go by:
Derek
Asshole
D.C.

3 screen names you've had:
dknight818
dknight054
darkbookgrrl

3 things you hate/dislike about yourself.
My Weight
Hair...It's leaving me.
I'm so LAZY!

3 parts of your heritage:
Swedish
Irish
Dutch

3 things that scare you:
I don't like "Spiders" much
Pumpernickle Bread is kind of weird
Ghosts is all scary and such

3 of your everyday essentials:
Powerade
Diet Mountain Dew
Screwin' Around. (I already said I was lazy)

3 things you're wearing right now:
Shirt
Pants
My "host body"

3 of your favorite bands/artists:
The Coasters
Jim Croce
The Insane Clown Posse

3 of your favorite songs at present:
Katmandu - Bob Seger
Young Blood - Coasters
5 Short Minutes - Jim Croce

3 of your favorite songs EVER:
See above.

3 new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
Infiltrating the CIA
Infiltrating the FBI
Infiltrating the YMCA

3 things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
Things
Stuff
That other stuff

2 truths and a lie:(no particular order to keep ya guessing)
I played on a professional hockey team
I skated against a professional hockey team
I worked for a professional hockey team

3 Physical things about a love interest that appeal:
physical? oh, now, I'm a sensitive guy! It's all about personality! wink wink (tatas)

3 things you just can't do:
Long Division
Tell the "truth"
Finish this lame quiz

3 of your favorite hobbies:
Did you know that when you die, under the right circumstances, your body fat turns to "soap?" Yeah, it's true, it's called soponification! Eerie...Wait, where were we?

3 things you want to do really badly right now:
Ooh, ooh, name this movie:
"there's these people in my parents' house and they...AND THEY'RE EATING ALL THEIR FOOD!"

3 careers you're considering:
EARLY ON, WHEN...oops...Early on, when I started this "blog" thing, I had visions and dreams of posting meaningful content EVERY DAY. I think that went by the wayside on day...2...If I got that far even...

3 places you want to go on vacation:
LALLALALALALALALALALALALALA! CAN'T HEAR YOU! LA LALA LALA LALA!

3 kids names (either boy or girl):
Pookie
Shitbird
Collin Travis

3 things you want to do before you die:
I'd like this damn "quiz" to END! Holy Hell, how long IS it?

3 people who have to take this quiz now:
Mr. America
Mrs. America
All of the Ships at Sea

Labels: Done Got Tagged, me roots, pointless shit

Since these sorts of things tend to come in chunks (the past dictates it. Do not try and avoid "tradition," if you do it will hunt you down and...Do something), I present another fake advertisement. In doing so, I honor "tradition." Also, I have access to an (almost) endless array of really lousy photos that I feel obligated to use and, seriously, c'mon...I have nothing else to post today...That having been said, let's get right to it, shall we?

I've shown off an ad for "Handy Bastard" before. In fact, if people were so inclined, they could even go so far as to purchase Handy Bastard hats and shirts at my cafepress shop. To sum it up kids, this isn't the Handy Bastard's first trip to the rodeo, so to speak...Besides, he's good with tools AND a tinch burly. Do not agitate Handy Bastard...

Anyway...

I figure you'll get the idea behind the ad when you read it. I wish I could've received such clear directives (or useful ideas) from the advertising which I grew up with. I'd have been able to afford that damned "Power Wheels" thing in no time...




Again, when you click on it, it'll get all "big" and "readable" and stuff. It'll be "better" like that, trust me...

Labels: false advertising, Phun With Photoshop

I am a large fan of the Stranger Than Fiction column which runs, in my area, in the weekly liberal rag. Among other strange occurrences, this column often chronicles the actions of some of the sharper (read: dumber) criminals across the globe. In reading such accounts of criminal mastermindery, I am often reminded that people who are involved with larger crimes are routinely "caught" through their participation in the silliest of offenses. The story that follows is no exception...

By the way, I pulled this from the Colorado Springs Police Blotter, which I try and check every day. It's great readin' and it's "fun" keeping tabs on what crimes are happening and where. When I checked the blotter today, this was the top entry:

Cut directly from the blotter, my modifications and comments are in red.

Incident Date January 11, 2005 Time 2:30:00 AM Division Stetson Hills Shift III

Title Other Location N Chelton Road and Sturgis Road

Summary On 01/11/05, at approx 0230AM, Stetson Hills officers were dispatched to contact a milk delivery driver reference a suspicious silver in color cadillac, occupied 4 times. 4 different times? Or was it that the Cadillac was full, "dipped low with hard-core bruthas?" The driver indicated that he had been followed, while he was making deliveries. The (suspect) vehicle was stopped at Logan and Constitution where 6 gallons of milk at an estimated street value of $18.00, as well as assorted frozen foods were recovered. Seriously. I mean, I know that everything has VALUE...But...This is MILK, dude. "Estimated street value" indeed. Imagine a "milk pusher" comin' up to you: "yo, man, you wanna glass of milk?" is it cold? "Sho', sho' it cold. It's WHOLE milk, baby!" Gee, I dunno...All that milkfat... "What, you skeered? c'mon, man, first one's free!" During the contact it was found that the suspects were related to a call at (street address), where Sand Creek officers were investigating a Motor Vehicle Theft. Through suspect interviews as well as a reporting parties cooperation a Search Waiver was obtained, for (street address) and over 5 grams of suspected marijuana was seized. heh. Two juveniles were served and released for theft and two adult males were also arrested; one charged with Offenses Related to Marijuana-Distribution. See, to me it's obvious that the only people that they were DISTRIBUTING to was THEMSELVES...After all, they had the munchies so bad that they had to follow the Schwan's man around...Or maybe it was the Farm Crest guy. Still, they went and stole MILK... At the time of this report it is unknown how many victims woke up with no milk in their box. But would they KNOW that they'd been victimized? Seriously, some folks might not even notice...

Labels: 'round town, misguided rantings

I have, in the past, filled space on this "blog" with hastily constructed chunks of content in lieu of actual "stuff." Everyone's doin' it, why not me, right?..Of course, it seems that's all I've been doing for the past year...Hell, I dunno...

I'm not sure why, but my tiny brain has been incapable of "settling down" over the course of the last few days. I have many things that I want to accomplish, and many things knockin' around up there, including blog entries, but that damn brain thing of mine won't allow me to complete any of them, at least not to my satisfaction. As such, while my grey matter and I are at odds, I will throw a hastily constructed "fake ad" at you (and you know who you are)...I'd like to say that I've had the idea for this fake ad bumping around upstairs for quite some time, but I'd be lying. I didn't even come up with the tagline until right before I added it to the ad...I have, however, used the featured photograph for evil more than once, and knew that eventually, I'd have to use it for a fake ad. As such, I've done just that...First, the background on the idea...

Imagine if you will that there would be companies which exist only to serve the "darker sides" of things (like holidays). In this case, according to Christmas tradition, when you are a bad little boy or girl, you are to be presented (by Santa Claus, a vengeful God to be sure) with gifts of "coal." Now, imagine a scenario where said little boy or girl has been EXTREMELY bad, like "future serial killer" or "aspiring litigator" bad...Well, then, that's where specialty shopping websites such as "Peebay®" would come into play! These outfits would fill the holiday wishlists of bad little boys and girls with the exact opposite of what they wanted, surely the cruelest form of yuletide punishment...I present a "print ad" for "Peebay®" right the Hell now:




Go ahead, click on it. When you do, a larger version will appear. Then you can READ the smaller text and (hopefully) "get it" and (potentially) laugh and/or chuckle. I'd appreciate it if you chuckled. It'd make me (and my evil little brain) happy.

Labels: false advertising, lame stories, Phun With Photoshop, stagnation

Because I am the consummate "cheap-ass" and have yet to replace my old, crappy digital camera, I have for you all "scans" (yes, actual REAL PHOTOS from a PHOTOMAT! And they've been scanned on this thing called a SCANNER!) from our recent holiday trip to Las Vegas. All of the nutty, photo-related fun starts...now.

By the way, you can click on any of the pictures to see a larger version. This is because "larger" equals "better," at least that's what I'm told...



This is a photo of my wife and I taken by my wife's sister. I'm not sure if my wife had recently woken up or was simply on drugs. What I DO know is that she'll probably smack me good after she reads this...heh...Also, yes, I'm wearing a jersey that says "ladies hockey." It belongs to my wife, but admit it. It looks good on me...



Here's my wife's sister with her boyfriend Aldie. Aldie doesn't like the camera much it seems, this is why he's attempting to squirm out of the shot. This is also why, when you want to take a picture of Aldie, you have to surprise him...



...As is represented in THIS shot which was taken while we were enjoying breakfast (Vegas style) at an exotic restaurant called "Denny's"...



...or this shot, snapped while we were gamblin' at the Orleans. Note the look of "consternation" (Vegas style) on Al's face and the fact that he's wearing a jacket indoors. Aldie gets cold (Vegas style) quite often. As a bonus, if you click to look at the enlarged version of THIS photo, you can just make out what appears to be the ghost of Captain Hook in the background to Aldie's left...



And now, it's time to display photos of myself, after all I AM quite the looker (Vegas style) (wink wink)...Here I am, lounging on the bed (Vegas style) in our hotel room after being ousted from the poker tournament I played in...Note the "bee" in the background. That darn bee followed us everywhere (Vegas style) and wouldn't leave, even when we gave him money. We eventually took him in and named him "peanut." He's since found a job and is working on his G.E.D (Vegas style)...We're so proud...



Ah, yes, here I am in the hallway outside the room. You know what the MOST disturbing part of this (very disturbing) photo is? I hadn't even been drinking (Vegas style) yet...



Here I am on Christmas Eve eve, opening a present (Vegas style) at my in-laws home. I was instructed by my wife's stepmom to open this particular present "last," and it turned out it was worth the wait...They got me more of the Time Life Doo-Wop DVDs...I didn't even KNOW that there were MORE!...By the way, the DVDs? They rock AND roll (Vegas style) ...



And here we are, on the rental car shuttle bus back to the airport on Christmas Eve. I know that this shot doesn't look like much, but when you click (Vegas style), you'll get a close up view of the sign which shows who was driving us (Vegas style) to the airport that particular day...I personally took it as a good omen. I guess the fact that we arrived home (Vegas style) was good enough...

And, that's it. Well, to be truthful there ARE more photos from the trip, but the ones you see up there are all that I feel like sharing/have the time to scan. Perhaps more pictures will follow (Vegas style) at a later date. Of course, if you applied the same logic, it's also possible that I will win millions of dollars via the lotto. Either way, there you go...Enjoy!

Labels: get outta town, Phrickin' Photoblogs

I got to looking at my sidebar (It's that "thing" to the left there) while "clicking through" to other "blogs" (and stuff) and realized that I was overdue for a wee bit of "housekeeping." As such, I rearranged some linky things a bit, denoted which blog links are retired (or broken) and tidied up the Hockey Whoopass Jamboree section (it's way at the bottom). in doing the last operation mentioned, I realized that I had been "remiss," which is not something that I should be "proud" of. Now, I'm not fully convinced that anyone's actually PAYING ATTENTION to the whole whoopass jamboree thing, but I am a man of my word, contrary to what some dirty Chiefs fans think...As such, I shall now display the logos of the teams which took the (mighty) Hershey Bears to the proverbial "woodshed" over the last month (or so)...Ready? Here we go:



On December 4, 2004, the Portly Pirates of Portland (Maine, I assume) edged the formidable Bears 4 to 3. As such, I owe "Nic" the above logo...



On December 12, 2004, The Lowly Lock Monsters of Lowell smacked the living crapola out of the Chocolatey Bear Cubs, winning 4 to absolutely nothing. As such, the above display of logo-related bliss is owed to "Kin."



On December 15, 2004, The Sullen Sound Tigers of Bridgeport made Ursa Major go out back and cut his own switch, as it were. They then proceeded to beat him as if he were a redheaded stepbear. Final tally: 4 to 1. The result of THAT game means that I owe the above logo to "Tuning Spork."



Finally, so that certain people will cease to believe that I am a nefarious schemer who will not keep his word (even when he doesn't remember giving it), I display the (classic) Kansas City logo above. As thoroughly "awesome" as it is, It would certainly be more appropriate (if not totally awesome) if the Injun fella' were carrying a set of golf clubs. After all, 2 teams from the AFC West made the playoffs aaaaand...Them Chiefs weren't one of 'em.

Did I mention that Brian Leifker kicked my ass, and the collective ass of everyone who competed in "Monkey Ball," which was a fantasy football league that I was "commissioner" of? The whole thing is disturbing, really...Still, way to go, Brian. We'll make you suffer next season...I swear it.

Well, kids, now that I have all of THAT out of the way, I should get some of the work which I get paid to do...done...Or something...Adios for now, Muchachos!

Labels: hockey stuff, indignities, sports, stagnation

I'm not feeling well today. I am "sick." Are you "sick," too? Did you pass along whatever you have and make me "sick?"

If you did, I will hunt you down...

Anyhow, I hope that everyone had a splendid New Year celebration. Mine was fun,...My wife, my sister, Collin, Collin's Brother and I all got together for New Year's Eve at my parents' place to play some poker and other games, including "Rock and Roll Triviologies," which is an enjoyable game, albeit rather challenging. There wasn't much drinking, at least not on my part, as my New Year's header would've suggested, I just didn't feel up to it...

The night before, on Thursday, I actually saw a movie (in a "theater," no less). My wife and I joined Collin and my sister for Napoleon Dynamite which, once you get past the first 15 minutes or so, is certainly worth witnessing. It's a hard film to describe, just suffice to say that, if you don't laugh at SOMETHING when you're watching it, check your pulse. You might be dead.

I had to work at the radio station on Friday and, for the first time in 10 years (or so), I was in charge of the "noon request hour." I have to say that it was a lot of fun, especially when my sister called in to request her favorite song and I just threw out my stock answer "We'll see what we can do for ya" and hung up...

I DID eventually play her song, but apparently she had stopped listening by then. Ah, cruel fate.

I set up the karaoke equipment on Saturday night so that my wife and I could sing some. I took it upon myself to record some of the things that we sang, but I doubt that any of them will end up on the ol' blog. You find out real quick that, when you playback the recording, no matter how good you thought you might be singing, you're no American Idol...

Sometime after the singing, and before waking up on Sunday, I became "ill." Most of yesterday I was pretty useless and I'm still feeling poorly today, as I already mentioned. Watching the Broncos beat the Indianapolis second-teamers into oblivion made me feel a little better, but having to play hockey later on (it was a playoff game) didn't serve me very well. We lost, but it's just as well. I'm finally done with the Chapel Hills Mall ice rink and, after 8 years, I'm done with the team that I played on there.

I should probably at least attempt to do some work today. Wish me luck. Happy new year to you all.

Labels: collin crap, holidays, lame stories, radio stories, Singing Off-Key

Unless you're one of those U2 fans. Oh, Hell, click the link (down there) regardless. Ol' Maddox'll set you straight...

The Eleven Worst Songs of 2004

Enjoy it (because I did).

Labels: blatant rip-offs, pointless shit

I remember back when I was a kid, and mind you this was AFTER that one week (or so) where I actually believed that Santa Claus was real, I would look forward to this "Christmas" holiday thing with the most eager of anticipation. Granted, Halloween was (and is) still my FAVORITE holiday, but Christmas was probably a close second, as it meant so many wonderful things when I was young. There were the spontaneous visits from UPS which I loved so much, the brown truck driven by the brown man, bearing (brown) gifts of all shapes and sizes (wrapped in brown paper) from all across the country. As well, there were the clandestine present shaking and rearranging excursions that my sister and I would embark upon. Of course, there were also the incessant attempts to convince my mother to let us open a present early, if only ONE single present ONE measly day early. If we had to perform even the most horridly menial tasks for the privilege of a sneak present peek, it all seemed worthwhile...

Hey, I feel like "getting sidetracked" right about here...Don't worry, though, we'll come back to this...

One year I got a BB gun for Christmas. No, it wasn't the Red Ryder Carbine Action somethin' somethin' range model air rifle (with a compass in the stock and a thing which tells time), but it was good enough to shoot some cans off of sawhorses and (slowly) kill some grasshoppers. At the time, it may well have been the best Christmas present I had ever received. I still have it, though I don't do much shootin' with it anymore..ah, the memories...I need to buy some BBs...

My family was (and is) slightly cruel to one another regarding Christmas gifts. We used to do (fun) things, such as wrapping up the biggest box we could get our hands on. This box, of course, would be filled with packing materials. It would also contain, buried deep within said "materials," smaller and smaller boxes, much like those despicable Russian Nesting Dolls, so as to make the journey to one of those "real good presents" last for much longer than it should have. I remember one year, so as to fool my sister, we wrapped up a note which detailed where she could find one of her presents, rather than wrapping the present itself. If I remember right, this was so she wouldn't "guess what the present was" by "shaking" or "feeling" said package. Regardless of the motive, it worked. She was completely surprised by...Whatever the Hell she got...I can't remember...Also, before Christmas, my dad would always convince my mom that they shouldn't get anything for each other, only to turn around and spend hundreds, if not thousands of dollars on her. Mom never really did learn her lesson and always had the most presents to open. Dad, in turn, would lament the fact that he had so few...He's funny like that...

So, back to what I was saying earlier...

I had myself a "revelation" regarding Christmas presents this year. An "epiphany," of sorts, regarding my mother. I always knew that my father despised the fact that we would open all of our presents on Christmas Eve, after dinner. When he was a kid, he would tell us, he had to wait until Christmas Day. My mom countered that HER family tradition was to open the gifts on Christmas Eve, after a nice dinner. As such, us kids always sided with mom. After all, who likes to WAIT to open presents? As a concession to dad, though, we agreed that we wouldn't be able to peek into our stockings until Christmas day, a stipulation which my sister and I would circumvent by merely staying up past midnight, which was easy to do when you had so much new stuff to play with...Of course, there was the year where we were bad and didn't get stockings...I think that "year" stretched into 3, I'm not sure...We were pretty bad...Anyhow...

Man, I'm really getting sidetracked...OK, back to the "epiphany" stuff...Here it comes: I realize now that all of that "family tradition" stuff that my mom fed my dad was probably a load of what is commonly called "crap."

My mom loves presents. She loves to shake presents. She loves to look at presents. She loves to rearrange presents. Of course, more than all of that, she loves opening presents. All of this "opening presents on Christmas Eve" junk wasn't born of "tradition," it was born of plain old "impatience." Seriously, I now believe that mom would've opened the presents just as soon as they went under the tree if she thought she could get away with it, she's that impatient about the whole process. All of this came to light for me this year because, due to the fact that my wife and I were going to be out of town the week before Christmas, we brought all of the presents that we wrapped up to my parents house since we'd be opening them all there anyway. From the time mom saw the mound of gifts, an "assload" by some standards, she couldn't stop talking about them, touching them and generally drooling over them...She even rearranged them a couple of times while we were away, my dad told me.

All this time!..I had thought I was the one who was impatient about Christmas when I was a kid. Imagine how hard it was for HER while my sister and I were growing up, having to put on her "adult" persona and not become a goofy, giddy three year old as soon as presents went under the tree. I salute you, mom. It must've been awful...

I got a lot of very nice things for Christmas this year, including a $50 gift certificate to what I consider to be the best liquor store here in town. This was a gift from my parents who told me that they "didn't know what kind of alcohol to buy me." Granted, I don't remember ASKING for booze, but I will say that it's definitely the gift that will keep on giving (until, of course, whatever I end up buying is gone). I got my wife as many St. Louis Blues related items as I could and she, in turn, got me a new goalie bag, an item which I was definitely in need of. Of the gifts I purchased for other people, my favorite would have to be two personalized items which I got from my Cafepress store. One for my mom and one for my dad. In case you're wondering (and you know you are) they enjoyed them very much. At least they said they did...In keeping with the thoroughly random randomness of this post, I offer the following: I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, if you celebrate that sort of thing. Regardless, I hope everyone had a wonderful and bright holiday season!

By the way, I still get a little excited when I see a UPS truck. Too bad they don't stop by as often as I'd like...

Labels: holidays, lame stories, me roots

And I just got back from it. There's just SO MUCH that I have to share from my time away that, in lieu of writing 20 different long, drawn-out stories, I am forced to (once again) rip off the Monkey's blog style for today's entry. Ready? here we go...

My wife and I traveled to Las Vegas last Monday to spend some time with family and friends. It seems that there are more and more people to see every time we go out that way, with the most recent addition to Sin City being Andy, whom you all know from the clever comments which he leaves from time to time. This Andy is not to be confused with Andy C., just so's you all keep things straight. THIS Andy, Andy K., recently landed a job at SKG advertising as a copywriter. Way to go, Andy!
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And speaking of Andy (We were), his wife Andrea paid him a surprise visit on Wednesday, which we were all aware of, but had to keep a secret, for obvious reasons. IT'S SO HARD TO NOT SPILL THE BEANS! Luckily, nobody ruined the surprise, which turned out to be a "good one." When she arrived, Andrea took a cab from McCarran to SKG, snuck up behind Andy and gave him a "kiss." Andy was scared to turn around, as he said, because when Andrea kissed him, what started running through his mind were all of the girls that had been nice to him...AND ONE GUY! He said that, if it HAD been the guy, he was prepared to "punch him."
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Backtracking to Monday, I had booked our flight on a "low-fare" airline called Allegiant. I booked the hotel with them as well, part of a package deal for which I paid an insanely low price. Sometimes, it is true that you "get what you pay for." Upon arrival at the Colorado Springs Airport, it was clear that, even though we got through the security and check-in process with plenty of time to spare, not everyone would be as fortunate. Allegiant, being the cheap-asses that they are, subcontract out the check-in and United, being the cheap-asses that THEY are, only allotted Allegiant one very slow station which was, in turn, "staffed" by one very slow individual. The check-in line extended far beyond a very far away place and things looked very bleak for an on-time departure. All of this "crap" conspired to put us a full hour and a half behind schedule. In addition, when we finally made it to our hotel, good ol' Allegiant, it seemed, simply failed to make our hotel reservation. Perhaps you can imagine my displeasure when I was told that, according to the Orleans, I didn't exist. Apparently, during the tirade of curse words which I followed THAT revelation up with, I must've hit on some "secret password" because we not only got a room soon after, but we were given a significantly better room than the folks around us who also were checking in (and existing) got.
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Speaking of crappy, low-fare airlines (oh, we were), Allegiant Air is officially "on notice" to "watch their ass." Listen here, you jerks! I've already utilized my (considerable) psychic powers to put Vanguard Airlines out of business and, believe me, I won't think twice about using that shit on you...
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On a lighter note, We (myself, my wife, Andy, Heather's Sister Shannon and Shannon's boyfriend Aldie) got together at P.F. Chang's on Monday evening. If you've never eaten at a Chang's before, I highly recommend doing so. If you HAVE enjoyed Chang's fare prior to reading this entry, you know what unbridled food-related bliss the whole experience can be. Say it with me..."Lettuce wraps."
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By the way, the whole "not having a hotel reservation" thing DID get cleared up, but I'm still not backing off of Allegiant. Someone's getting a letter, dammit.
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In addition to Chang's on Monday, my wife and I joined Andy (and Andrea) for dinner on Wednesday at Diego, which is in the MGM Grand. I will admit, I was a bit leery of "gourmet Mexican" fare going in but I'm a believer now. Two words for you folks. Well, 3. No, make it 4. "Guacamole, prepared fresh tableside." Oh holy crap, THAT is some damn good stuff. Unfortunately, for Andy, it was his first experience with guacamole. He enjoyed it immensely, as did we all, but I assured him that after having THIS particular guacamole, most others would really suck by comparison. Also, we had goat barbacoa. That is some good stuff, lemme tell ya.
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Well, that should be enough for now. Later on, I'll fill you all in about things such as how I participated in an actual poker tournament, how many presents my wife got from her dad and stepmom (enough to pop the seams in our luggage) and perhaps more dining experiences, since we go to Las Vegas primarily to eat food and get fat. Until then, I hope you all had a great holiday and, if you're back at work today, I hope you can make the best of it. If you're NOT back at work today...Well...Sleep in...Or somethin'...I dunno.

Labels: blatant rip-offs, get outta town, I eat food, indignities, poker